


The Best Suit I'll Never Wear

by quicksylver28



Category: Men in Black (Movies), Phineas and Ferb, Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Blood and Violence, Explicit Language, Gen, Sassy Stiles Stilinski, failwolves, noisy cricket
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-07
Updated: 2015-03-07
Packaged: 2018-03-16 19:00:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,653
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3499382
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/quicksylver28/pseuds/quicksylver28
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stiles and the Noisy Cricket <br/>or how the Alpha Pack got straight merc'd by the pack's 'fragile' human.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Best Suit I'll Never Wear

At first Stiles didn't know whether to hug it or to kill it with fire.

One minute he was walking along, stomping his way through the woods, angrily crunching of leaves and snapping twigs, hands shoved into the pockets of his Beacon Hills team hoodie. 

The next minute he was on his back, blinking the stars out of his eyes.

He lays on the forest floor for a minute, cataloging any new points of pain on his 'fragile' human body and mumbling unpleasantly about the utter failwolves he's surrounded by on a daily basis.

Stupid Derek who equated keeping Stiles safe with pushing him away from the pack.

Stupid Scott for agreeing with the big jerkwolf for the first time in forever.

Stupid Alpha Pack for existing merely to be a gigantic pain in Stiles freckled ass.

Stupid Stiles for not being alert while traipsing through the forbidden forest.

But enough of that. His back hurt from the fall and there was a weight on his chest. It was warm and… purring?

Ok… this is new.

It was soft and pink and utterly adorable and sitting on his chest, watching him with large black unblinking eyes. 

The thing was cute. And soft, his mind supplied as he brought one hand up to touch its fuzz. So very soft. Did he mention how soft it was?

Like really. It was soft.

As he absently rubbed the soft warm furry belly while it purred contentedly, his mind quickly ran through the catalogue of the beastiary, finding no match. 

"So little guy…" he chuckled "what exactly would you be huh?" , scratching behind the cute ears.

"Meap"

D'aaawwwwwww. Even it's voice was so frikkin' cute. Stiles all but melted unto the forest floor.

And he would have melted completely if not for the evil handle bar moustache the fuzzy was wearing. And Stiles seen enough childhood TV to know that glorious handle bar moustaches like the one the fuzzkin sported were ALWAYS a sign of evil, no matter what tumblr said. 

He sat up gingerly, careful not to dislodge the little guy.

"so … uh… you're not gonna turn into a gremlin and try to eat my face off right?" he smiled weakly, shrugging.

"Meap?" 

"Uh, cool" Stiles nodded, having no idea where to go from here. "Soooooo…" 

At that moment a man in a black suit burst through the underbrush where he'd kicked the rock earlier.

"Stop right there Mitch! You are under arrest for illegally entering earth territory, landing a space craft on this planet without the proper permits and attempting to smuggle Cutonium off the planet against the regulations of the Intergalactic Treaty of 2004. Prepare to be apprehended and deported to your home planet."

Stiles gaped and looked down at the fuzzy he was cuddling. Spacecraft? Earth territory? Intergalactic treaty?

If the clown in the suit was to be believed and granted, he did look pretty unruffled for someone who'd been stumbling through the underbrush in a three piece suit, then aliens were real and he was hugging a very dangerous, and soft, he did mention soft right?, intergalactic criminal to his chest. One whose names was Mitch of all things. One that was suddenly growing sharp teeth and claws.

He threw the fuzzy away from him with a squeak, whimpering as it tumbled away cutely. It quickly stood, shaking a menacing yet utterly cute paw at the suit. Even it's little bitty widdle claws were pearlescent. Stiles felt very conflicted about this.

"You'll never take me alive Copper"

And apparently alien criminals all get their accents from 1920s New York mobsters. Huh.

The fuzzkin wastes no time. He's on the suit's face like one of those face huggers from the Alien movies with the ultra sexy Ripley . And on a side note, please let those fuckers be totally fictional because the last thing Stiles need right now is an fugly alien baby bursting from his chest. I mean c'mon, he's hasn't even had sex with anyone but his own hand yet.

The battle rages from one side of the small clearing to the next. Finally Suit pulls out a shiny silver gun but before he can aim it, Mitch gets him good in the chest with a flying kick and the gun goes flying through the air to land at the feet of one Stiles Stillinski. Time freezes. Stiles looks at the gun, it's a tiny thing, silver and almost toy like. But he knows not to underestimate anything toy like so he glances up at the fighting duo.

And find them looking right back at him. Frozen in fight positions.

Seconds tick by as they all look between the gun and each other. The screech of a bird cuts the silence and it's a scramble. Fuzzkin and the Suit dragging on each other to get to the gun first, they knock it closer to Stiles. He wastes no time in grabbing it and raising the small weapon. He aims it at the once again still combatants.

They stare at him as he quickly gets to his feet, the gun steady and trained on them both.

"Now son…"

"Meap…"

The two begin at the same time and glare at each other. Stiles shakes his head.

"Don't 'now son' me Dude, I hate that. And nice try with the 'meap' little guy but I know you can talk now so that's not gonna fly. Cheese and rice on a whole wheat cracker, you would NOT believe the day I've had so far and I really can' t deal with any additional crap right now can we just cut through the BS and skip straight to what the fuck is really going on here?" 

There is a moment when he thinks that this was maybe the one time that someone in his soap opera of a life would break character and just explain what was happening in simple terms but that hope is shot down pretty quickly when as one, suit and fuzzy lunge for the gun in his hand.

But Sherriff Stilinski didn't raise his only boy child to be no fool so he does what he'd been trained by years of target practice and lectures on gun care and handling to do. He aims between them both and squeezes the trigger. For a split second he's afraid that he fricasseed them both with some sort of death ray but he has enough time to see them fly apart before the force of the tiny gun's recoil flings him back a good fifteen feet to land in middle of some thick shrubbery.

He only had time blink at the sky dizzily before he passes out. 

By the time he comes to and crawls out of the thick bushes he'd been all but wedged into, it was full night.

Huh… wedged in a hedge. He made a funny.

His body had all new aches that made themselves known as he checked the clearing for any sign of the others. The place was deserted so he slipped the gun, which he'd miraculously kept a hold of, into the pocket of his hoodie and hobbled home.

His dad was out so he dragged his exhausted ass to the kitchen and ate handfuls of leftover pasta straight from the takeout container and drained the last carton of orange juice. Making a note to go grocery shopping in the morning, he stumbled up to bed and was snoring in seconds.

The next morning dawned as bleak as his mood. His phone showed no missed calls or text messages from anyone and his back and shoulders have stiffened painfully that no amount of hot water from his shower could ease. He grunted at his dad over breakfast of toast and eggs, his father tramping up to his room to sleep the day away and Stiles all but stumbling out of the house with his keys in one hand and a grocery list in the other.

As he stalked the aisles of the local A&P, he called Scott, Allison, Isaac and even Sourwolf himself with no response. In fact, none of the pack responded to the numerous calls and texts he sends. He huffed as he loaded his jeep and gunned the engine. It seemed that Action Plan: Ignore Stiles was in effect.

Fine. They wanted to ignore him? That was a-okay. Then he wouldn't tell them about his crazy night. He would play the Xander Harris this time. He could be Fray Adjacent. If they wanted to fight the Sisterhood of Jhe in the Library with swords then he would take O'Toole in the basement with the bomb.

Ok wait… maybe he'd gotten a little carried away with his Buffy and Clue references and lost track of that thought but the gist of it was still true. If the Beacon Hills pack didn't want to talk to this 'fragile' human then they would not get to hear the story about the fuzzy and soft, don't forget soft pink alien, the discount bin Agent Coulson and the shiny silver gun that was currently burning a hole in the pocket of his hoodie.

After stopping at home to put away the groceries and making sandwiches for himself and his dad for when he eventually woke up, he hopped into the jeep again and drove a small abandoned farm that sat just on the edge of county lines.

The weapon was bright and shiny silver with a rough black grip. Green lights blinked when he carefully took the safety off and as he braced himself and placed his finger on the trigger, a soft high pitched sound trilled from the gun. Slowly he took aim at a tree stump and squeezed the trigger. The guns trilled loudly and a loud *FOOM* rang in his ears as the recoil sent him flying back into the grass.

Taking a second to regain his breath, he sat up gingerly and could only gape as the stump lay on its side some five feet away from it's former hole in the ground, the smoking black scraggly roots sticking up into the air. Next he tested it on the side of the old barn and the fireball that resulted threw him on his ass with a startled laugh.

A few tries and some colourful curses later he could just control his aim and keep to his feet for a second shot without getting sent ass over tea kettle. Surprisingly the small weapon had no problem with over heating and didn't seem to be running out of power. 

The rumbling of his stomach finally drove him back to town and within minutes he was sitting on a bench in from of Beacon Hills only Taco truck, watching absently as a trio of black helicopters flew by at a fast clip. As he crumpled the wrapping paper and practiced his free throws in the nearby trash bin, several black SUV's rumbled by. He looked after them with a frown but soon shrugged it off as hunter business and that was so totally none of his business so he got the hell out of dodge. 

The next day in school he almost cornered Scott at his locker but the werewolf slipped away at the last minute. The traitor. See if Stiles would lend him his copy of The Princess Bride Director's Cut again. With bonus footage and director's Commentary. Scott would just have to trudge to Blockbuster with the rest of joe public. Isaac blatantly Ignored him, Lydia Looked at him until he backed away. Allison shrugged sheepishly and made herself scarce. Jackson was Jackson and Stiles didn't know Danny well enough.

And as a cherry on top of this fucked up sundae, Derek himself came to pick up Isaac after school and wiggled his angry eyebrows in Stiles' direction with a frown on his stupid gorgeous werewolf face. Ugh. 

The next two days pass in the same manner until one day when Stiles is just opening the front door after another sucky day at school and a clawed hand grabs him from behind. Before he can do more than squeak, he is tumbled into a trunk and wasn't that a nightmare flashback to his time with Uncle Creeper and the trunk of a another car.

He is pulled from the trunk in an old building and rough hands push him to sit on the ground. He blinks in the bright light and almost wished he didn't. The Alpha pack is standing around him, eyes glowing red and looking like prime nightmare fodder.

The blind Leader, Deucalion, and isn't that a mouthful, delves straight into Evil Monologue #17 about Derek and Scott coming to rescue the 'fragile' human and falling into his trap. Le Sigh. What is it with people calling him fragile? More of this and he would have to give up his man-card. Not that being a girl was so bad. Women like Allison, Lydia and Mama McCall were total badass, strong females and he would be totally flattered to be counted among them.

But he was a guy, with balls and a dick and everything and all the insults were starting to get to him already.

Then Duke, because frankly Deucalion was really just too long to say over and over, even in his mind, revealed his trump card. Erica and Boyd trussed up like turkeys with another brown haired girl with a really familiar glower. And all the while Duke was waxing poetic about this and that, Stiles was feeling in his pocket for a small shiny gun because it's not as if they searched him or thought to tie him up or anything, him being so 'fragile' and all.

Ch. Bad guys. Gotta love 'em.

So while Duke is mid word and mid stride, Stiles cocks the weapon and the gun trills as the Alpha of Alphas is almost torn in half. It's chaos after that as blood gets everywhere and he aims at the nearest wolf. Kali is caught mid lunge and flung away like a ragdoll, her chest blown wide open. Within seconds the big fucker Ennis is on him and they go down, he barely has time to doge a swipe of razor sharp claws when he presses the gun to the side of the big wolf's head and pulls the trigger.

The big body drops to the side and Stiles scrambles out from under time in time to roll away from the wonder twins' megazord form. He scrambles away and ducks around a support beam, bringing the gun up once more and firing right into the mouth of the roaring alpha, blowing the top of its head away with a high pitched trill and a meaty squelch. Eww.

In the ensuing silence, all Stiles can hear is the pounding of his own heart and the wet smack of blood and guts as they slide down various surfaces to smack on the floor. Stiles himself is half soaked in things he'd rather not think about. Ever. He blinks and look over to where Erica and Boyd sit gaping at him. He tries for a smile and a sheepish shrug but comes across looking like a fiend who just crawled from Hell's deepest pit.

That is when the familiar brunette faints dead away.

Stiles can only look at her dumbly when the door bursts open and men in black suits like the one in the forest pour into the room, only to stop dead at the blood soaked Stiles standing over the corpses of half transformed werewolves and one headless megazord wolf monster.

Stiles holds up the small gun with two bloody stained fingers and shrugs. The suits take half a step back. In unison.

"Uh.. Heh heh heh… I can explain"

Turns out that the Suits were actually the real live Men in Black, bane of every conspiracy theorist everywhere, which was hella cool in Stiles' books. Black SUVs swarmed the old building, men is hazmat suits and flame throwers and other unidentifiable machinery duck in and out of the building. Erica and the other two are being treated in a hastily erected tent nearby and once in a while bright lights flash within the plastic walls.

An older man sits next to Stiles at the back of a medical truck, the small blood splattered gun held in a plastic baggie. He'd already told them his story and had been made to repeat it at least twice, once in front of a camera. He was exhausted and just wanted to go home.

"It's called a Noisy Cricket" the man states out of the blue. He gestures to the gun and Stiles nods, taking another sip of his water.

"What happens now?" Stiles asks. All he wants to is go home, eat his weight in food, hug his dad and sleep for a week.

"That depends on you kid." The man chuckles and looks out on to the controlled chaos. "You did good in there kid. Not many people can take alien tech and use so well against pretur-naturals. Werewolves no less. Hell, fucking werewolves. And here I thought I'd seen everything there was to this planet. Guess even my security clearance wasn't high enough for this shit."

He turns from contemplating the sky to look at Stiles.

"We could use a kid like you at MIB. Someone who can think on his feet. Someone who is not easily phased by the strange and unexpected. Think about it, you can graduate and go to college on our dime and then after that…"

"… to infinity and beyond?" Stiles finished. He looks out to where the hazmat guys are packing the last of their gear into the back of an armored van. 

"I already have enough on my plate as it is. Don't know if I can handle werewolves AND space aliens in my life. What was it you called them… pretur-naturals? Yeah. I'm pretty much invested in that already. Besides, I have my dad to think about and I doubt I would be able to look after him while traipsing from one end of the galaxy to the next."

"Yeah, I thought so." the agent shrugged. He tucks the baggie with the noisy cricket into his jacket and pulls out a pair of shades, putting them on.

"But hey… " Stiles laughs, "… if I change my mind in the future maybe I'll look you up ok?"

"No you won't sport" the agent holds up a small silver tube. A light flashes in Stiles' eyes. "No, you won't"

 

The pack is bonding day at the local carnival. After Erica and Boyd's change of heart and return, bringing with them a surprise in the form of Derek's long lost sister Cora and the Alpha pack seeming to disappear after Derek turned them down the last time, things have been looking up. Scott has been extra attentive lately which is a bit odd but Stiles is not one to look a gift horse in the mouth.

Derek is happier, smiling more and the pack is starting to come together . School is going well, except for the tragic suicide of their teacher, Ms. Blake. Stiles and his Dad are closer and Danny of all people is starting to talk to him more. Which makes Jackson furious and tickles Stiles to no end.

The carnival smells of popcorn and churros and the rides clank and ding like a joyful song. Allison is kicking all kinds of ass at the shooting game and a muttered goad from about 'fragile humans' Jackson has Stiles slapping a fiver into the stall owner's hand. The first shot seems off, he overbalances as if expecting a large recoil. By the fifth shot he's got his stride and after another fiver from Scott, has the winning bell singing like a rooster. 

The grumpy carnie mumbles as he has to climb a short ladder to fetch Stiles' choice of prize. It's cute and it's pink and its fuzzy and oh so soft and Stiles is strangely torn between hugging it and killing it with fire. Hugging wins out and the others can only watch on as he hugs the pink toy tight to his chest, grinning widely.

He ignores any comments from the peanut gallery about pink being a girly girl's colour as the four female members in their group respectively smack the males upside the head. After being sufficiently cowed, they head off to the rides. 

A shoulder bumps into his. It's Derek. He has a contented look on his face and Stiles offers him the belly of the pink fuzzkin toy to rub. After hesitating, Derek finally caves to Stiles' puppy eyes and rubs the fur. His eyes take on a delighted look.

"Hn. Soft" he grunts.

Stiles laughs. "Needs something though. I'm thinking handle bar mustache." he regards the toy critically.

Derek's laugh startles him. It's such a rare thing. The alpha wolf is full on smiling and it's sheer beauty takes Stiles' breath away.

"Never change Stiles, never change."

Stiles hugs the toy tight to chest as Derek jogs ahead in response to Cora's call. His heart thumps in his chest as he tries to catch his breath as he realizes that he would do almost anything to put that smile on Derek's face as much as possible.

Wow. Just wow.

That was…

His breath whooshes out as he squeezes the toy even harder until it squeaks.

And if that squeak sounded a bit like a 'meap' in Stiles' head, it doesn't matter because a certain sourwolf is calling him to keep up or he'd miss out on the hot wings the wolves were scarfing down up ahead.

He gives the toy a final squeeze against his own suddenly grumbling stomach and steps into his future with a smile.

 

 

\-----------------------------------------------

 

i thought about Stiles Joining MIB but he would never leave his dad. ever.


End file.
